


Pants on Fire

by LadyMerlin



Series: hotseat [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Age Difference, Edward Elric Swears, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Humour, Idiots in Love, Light Angst (because I couldn't help myself), Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Riza Hawkeye is an Amazing Friend, Roy Mustang is a Dweeb, Self-Esteem Issues, Truth Spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-11-24 10:36:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18164096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMerlin/pseuds/LadyMerlin
Summary: “You what,” Ed finally says, so flat that it’s not even a question anymore.Roy closes his eyes and prays for the sweet embrace of death.





	Pants on Fire

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this comes from a suggestion by [Ganymeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ganymeme/pseuds/Ganymeme) \- I'm sorry it's not smuttier, but I hope you like it anyway <3

Inviting Ed to his house is the easy part. He’d agreed with relative ease, if a little suspicion at the timing of the call. No one bothered Ed on weekends if they could help it – probably a self-preservation thing.

Sitting him down to explain the situation is a whole other kettle of fish.

“So you’re telling me you’ve been cursed.” It’s not a question. Ed had _asked_ the question earlier. _This_ is a disbelieving statement of fact, judgmental in a way only Ed can be. Roy nods anyway, because there’s nothing else he can do.

“But not with alchemy.” Roy nods again. “With magic, you say.” Roy is beginning to feel like a doll with a bobbing head. “Magic doesn’t exist, Mustang.”

He knows this, and Ed knows that he knows this, because he’d made himself very clear not moments prior. And yet…

“And what does the curse make you do?”

“It makes me tell the truth,” Roy provides, honestly.

Ed’s face is – it’s _something_. It’s beautiful and terrifying and he just – Roy is utterly ruined. Maybe carving his heart would be easier than facing this.

“That must be pretty traumatising for you, you lying bastard,” Ed swears, but he doesn’t look particularly angry. Just thoughtful. And irritated, though that’s a baseline for Ed. “What does it have to do with me?”

“I’ve got to tell you a secret to break the curse,” Roy answers, and really, Riza should have shot him when she had the chance; this isn’t worth it.

“So you’ve been lying to me about something,” Ed says, and now anger is creeping into his expression. God help him, but he still looks gorgeous, to Roy. People with more... sanity would probably have run, screaming. 

“Well, you could say I’ve been lying to everyone,” and that’s actually, pathetically true. He’s been lying to _everyone_ , including himself.

“And why do you have to tell the truth to _me_?” Ed asks, which is definitely a fair question, if harder to answer.

“Because it’s about you.” Roy has never before realised how much he relies on white lies to ease his conversations, until he sees Ed begin to look betrayed and pissed-off. He thinks that Roy is about to tell him something terrible, and he’s right. Roy is going to hell for this. It’s like, no matter what he does, his sins keep racking up. The way things are going, he’ll never be able to make up for them.

“You’ve been lying to everyone about me,” Ed summarises, flatly, and it sounds so _bad_ when he puts it that way, but Roy can't even correct him. “And now you have to tell me the truth. Really Mustang, this isn't funny anymore. If you’re yanking my chain—”

“I’m not,” Roy says, working hard to banish the images conjured by Ed's words, “I swear to god, I’m not. And it’s not that I’ve been actively lying to everyone, it’s just that I haven’t said this out loud to anyone, except Hawkeye this morning, when she confronted me.”

Ed grumbles under his breath and Roy is a little grateful he can’t hear what’s being said. “Alright then, Mustang, I’ll play along. What your deepest, darkest secret?”

It’s not even a little funny that Ed is using the exact same words that Hawkeye had, that morning. It’s _mortifying_.

“I’m in love with you,” Roy says, because there’s no other way to say it, no other diversion he can toss out there to prevent this from happening; he is past the point of no return.

There’s a long moment of silence. Roy focuses on the howling of the wind outside, which sounds a lot like the noise his soul is making inside his chest.

“You what,” Ed finally says, so flat that it’s not even a question anymore.

Roy closes his eyes and prays for the sweet embrace of death.

“No seriously, what did you just say? I think I didn’t hear you right.”

A small, detached part of Roy’s mind takes notice of the fact that Ed’s accent comes out especially when he’s stressed or angry. Roy likes it more than he should, and really, this love business is truly debilitating. He's lost his mind. 

“No,” Roy sighs, “you heard me. I’m more than a little bit stupid over you,” and god, he can’t believe he’s even saying this, it’s humiliating.

Ed’s face is, to say the least, a picture. Or perhaps, it is several pictures as he cycles through emotions rapidly, landing eventually on something that looks like hurt. Roy is just about to say that he doesn’t understand that, before a mask of anger flickers over it. 

“You  _bastard_ ,” Ed swears, and yeah, that’s fair. Roy would’ve had _much_ more to say if he’d realised his older commanding officer had been having soft-core fantasies about his hair and his face and the way he looked in leather pants. Not that he ever wore leather pants as a young man, but still. Roy deserves everything he gets, and more. “God, I can’t believe you. I thought we were - I don’t know what I thought, but I thought you were my friend.” And Ed sounds so devastated that Roy can’t help but close his eyes to await his judgment. He doesn’t want to see hatred in Ed’s golden eyes. He couldn’t bear that. 

The same small voice in the back of his head wonders about the hurt he’d seen on Ed’s face, but he quashes it thoroughly. Now isn’t the time to indulge his Hughes-ian instincts.

“I can’t believe you’ve been laughing about this behind my back, all along,” Ed continues, and Roy’s train of thought comes to an emergency halt.

“What?”

“I mean, do you think this is some sort of joke? I know you think I’m crazy, but I’ve not done anything to deserve this, Mustang.”

Roy flinches before he can even open his mouth; it’s been a long time since he’d heard his voice being said with that particular tone of disdain; disappointment, like he’s been judged and found terribly wanting.

God, he  _wants_.

“None of this is a joke, Ed. I can understand how you’d feel that way but I swear to you, I’d never planned to tell you. I know how - I can only imagine how much it disgusts you, and I’m sorry, but I promise I’d never intended to act on any of this. I swear on Hawkeye’s life.” His own life isn’t worth much to Ed, at this point.

There’s a long pause.

“Act on what, exactly?” Ed tone is blank in a different way now, more impassive, and infinitely more terrifying. Roy still doesn’t want to open his eyes, because he’ll definitely break down if he sees - well. If he sees what he thinks he’s going to see, on Ed’s face.

“My feelings,” Roy says, biting back the apologies that want to spill after it. He notices absently that the compulsion to tell the truth is gone, which is nice, but he’d rather have thrown away his entire career at the mercy of honesty, if it meant that he could have escaped this torture. 

“ _Your_  feelings?” Ed asks, and something about the emphasis on that is wrong. Or, not wrong exactly, but unexpected.

“Yes?” He asks, blinking his eyes open to look at Ed, finally. His face is clear of all emotions now, save for the slightest furrow of his brow. It’s amazing really, how his masks are almost as good as Roy’s own, concealing the turmoil beneath.

“You’re telling me that  _you_  have feelings for me,” Ed says, and Roy shrugs, opening his palms instinctively, trying to show that he has nothing to hide. Ed takes a step towards him and Roy flinches ever so slightly, but Ed notices and stops in his tracks.

Then he takes another deliberate step towards Roy, telegraphing his intent clearly, and Roy holds still. It’s not like he doesn’t deserve to get decked; the least he can do is take it like an adult.

Ed doesn’t stop until he’s sizzling inches from Roy, and it’s funny how now the height difference is negligible, how Ed can stare straight into his soul without so much as having to tiptoe. Roy has always known that Ed is breathtaking but it’s ridiculous, he’s holding his breath and his entire world is spinning. If Ed’s going to punch him, Roy wishes he’d just get it over with.

“So you weren’t making fun of  _my_  feelings?” Ed asks, finally, once he’s done searching Roy’s soul. 

Roy’s train of thought explodes into a thousand pieces, but then, trains tend to do that, when faced with the Fullmetal Alchemist.

“Yours?” He manages to stutter, holding back on other inane and possibly insulting statements like ‘ _you_  have feelings?’

Ed cracks a bit of a grin. “For a politician, you’re a pretty bad liar.” Roy twitches, but he doesn’t have the mental capacity to defend himself; his nerves are shot to shit. 

“Since you’re clearly useless,” Ed continues, smile growing wider, “I guess I’ll have to do all the work myself, as usual.” His entire face lights up with a smile, and he’s so goddamn beautiful that Roy thinks he might be having a stroke. That’s unfortunately where all his higher functions cease to exist, because Ed is kissing him.

Ed is  _kissing_  him. 

_Him._

It’s just a gentle press of lips, but Roy’s eyes fall shut of their own accord, and his hand moves up to cup Ed’s jaw. He’s trembling so hard that he’s sure Ed can feel it too. When Ed draws back, it feels like an amputation, though that's not something Roy would ever say out loud.

When he opens his eyes, Ed is smiling at him, and he wants to smile back but he’s shaking so hard that it feels like he’s having a breakdown – this has all been pent up for so long that he hadn’t even realised how much he _wanted_ this.

Ed sighs a little but he doesn’t stop smiling, and instead his hand comes to rest on Roy’s hand, pressing it even more firmly against Ed’s cheek, and the trembling stops almost instantly. His automail finds Roy’s other hand and laces their fingers together, steadying him like bedrock. “You’re a mess, aren’t you?” He sounds immeasurably fond.

Roy huffs a laugh, because Ed has _no_ idea.

“Are you going to kiss me properly, then? Before we have to talk about all the other shit you’ve said today.”

 _Oh good_ , Roy thinks, _there’ll be no end to his misery_ , before he processes what Ed has just said.

“May I?” he asks, because he doesn't dare – he can't believe it –

Ed rolls his eyes. “I just said you could, didn’t I?” he asks, but before he’s even finished the sentence properly, Roy is kissing him. It’s an entirely different creature from their first kiss, and it’s meant to be. When Ed kissed him, they’d both been uncertain. _This_ kiss is a promise and a declaration all in one.

His hand on Ed’s face isn’t just there for the sheer pleasure of touch, but because he’s holding Ed still, to move their lips together, to slide his tongue into Ed’s mouth and suck on his lower lip. Ed makes a tiny noise into their mouths, but their hands are still clasped and he makes no move to get away, so Roy doesn’t stop, and just drinks it in.

When Ed starts moving with him, learning a rhythm which works for both of them, Roy moves his hand from Ed’s jaw to the back of his head, weaving his fingers into thick golden hair to better tilt his head back and deepen the kiss. Ed moans at him and Roy’s sighs in pleasure at the sound of it, at the thought that Ed is enjoying this as much as he is.

Ed keeps nibbling at his lower lip but he doesn’t break the kiss, and Roy doesn’t want to break it either, so they keep kissing until they both run out of air. Even when they’re panting into each others’ faces, Roy can’t make himself move back, can’t bring himself to introduce distance between them. He wants to stay like this forever, especially when Ed leans into a hug and tucks his face into Roy’s neck, making it easier for Roy to press kisses into his hair.

When Ed laughs, Roy doesn’t panic. He can feel Ed’s heart beating just as rapidly as his own, and their fingers are still laced together; Ed’s not laughing at him. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?” he asks, still speaking into Roy’s neck. The movement of his lips tickles and makes Roy want to bare his neck to Ed, as if in submission.

“I’ve honestly never denied that I’m an idiot,” Roy lies, and Ed bites him in admonishment. It’s not gentle, and Roy’s knees go weak. This prompts a move towards a more stable surface while Ed laughs at him.

When they’re both arranged on the couch, Ed sprawled on top of Roy, he asks, “so, what was all that earlier about not being able to lie?” Roy doesn’t know if his shortness of breath is caused by Ed’s proximity to his face, or if it’s because there’s a man with two automail limbs lying on top of him, though he supposes it’s all the same in the end.

“You know Madame Christmas, right?” he asks, and Ed nods. Everyone knows Madame Christmas, even if they don’t know who she is in relation to the Flame Alchemist. “She’s my aunt and foster mother. Took me in and raised me when my parents died. I grew up in her brothel.” He pauses in anticipation of a comment, the same one that everyone makes, about how that ‘ _makes sense_ ’ given Roy’s tendencies, but Ed doesn’t say anything.

He continues when it’s clear that Ed’s listening, and that he's not going to pass any judgment yet. It’s refreshing. “I go out a lot with the ladies from the brothel. I take them out for nice meals and they share their anecdotes of any number of important people who’ve engaged their services.”

“Your information network,” Ed says, sounding a little impressed. Roy wants to preen, even though really, they were the ones who did the hard work.

“Anyway, I try to be nice to them, you know? The work they do isn’t easy and plenty of the working girls come from difficult backgrounds. It doesn’t take much, holding a door, giving my seat to someone, something hot to eat or drink.” Ed’s smile is widening but Roy doesn’t know why, so he tries and fails to ignore it. “I was at the bar last night and there was a lady who looked to be in real rough shape. Just. She looked exhausted.”

And she had, she’d really looked miserable, bags under her eyes and her hair all over the place. She looked like every abused woman Roy had ever seen. He’d just wanted to make her smile, when he said she looked lovely. He hadn’t meant anything else by it.

“She cussed me out. Said I was a dirty liar and that I was no different from every other chauvinist pig out there. I backed off, of course, but she said something about how she’d teach me a lesson about lying if it was the last thing she did. Then she threw a drink in my face.”

By then, Ed is laughing lowly, patting his head as if to sooth the sting of his laughter. Roy supposes it’s funny _now_.

“Went home, went to bed. Called it a wash, you know? Then in the morning, I realised I couldn’t lie.”

“Wait, today’s a Sunday, who were you lying to on a Sunday morning?” Ed asks and Roy can feel an edge of tension in the question. That’s fair. He no-doubt suspects that Roy had a bed-mate whom he’d tried to lie to. This is going to be embarrassing, but it has to be done.

“Me.”

“What.” That tone of voice demands explanation.

Roy sighs. “Maes hated how self-deprecating I was. I thought it was funny but he said if I said it, it would come true. Not to mention, if people thought I didn’t think much of myself, they wouldn’t think much of me either. He started making me do this thing in Ishbal. Every morning I have to wake up and say three positive things about myself. He was really into all this self-care and self-love stuff. I indulged him, and now—”

And now, he carries on this habit in memory of the man who had been his best friend.

Ed kisses the corner of his mouth, sweetly. “Al told me to do the same thing, but you know how I am.”

Roy sighs and strokes the back of Ed’s hair; it really is wonderfully soft. “I don’t really believe it, you know? But I do it, every day, without fail. And this morning I couldn’t do it. I opened my mouth and I couldn’t say it. I tried everything but I couldn’t meet my own eyes in the mirror and lie.”

Ed makes a face at him. “Couldn’t you think of a single nice thing to say about yourself?” he asks, which isn’t the direction Roy had expected him to take the line of questioning, but.

He shrugs. “Woke Hawkeye up, she threatened to shoot me. She said that in all the fairy tales she’s read, curses were broken when the person learned their lesson. Then she asked me what’s my deepest darkest secret, because my best and oldest surviving friend is terrifying.”

“What was it, then?” Ed asks, but he sounds genuinely curious, like he hasn’t yet put it together, not like he’s making Roy say it.

“Ed, it’s that I’m in love with you,” he sighs, staying still when Ed rears back to stare at him. He doesn’t flinch from Ed’s unblinking stare, this time.

“Why is _that_ your deepest, darkest secret?” Ed demands. “Do you mean to say you were never going to tell me, if not for this thing?”

Well, Roy supposes that Riza would have done something about it eventually, but no, of his own accord, he’d have taken his secret to the grave. “I’m fifteen years older than you, Ed. I’m your superior officer. I’m a murderer, and by all accounts, a war criminal. I lie so often that I literally lie to _myself_. I’m a disaster. You’re so young, you’re so beautiful, you’re in the prime of your life. You're the hero of the people, and you once punched a god in the face. What do I have to offer?”

Ed looks like he doesn’t know whether he wants to cry or strangle him.

“You’re a good man,” he whispers, leaning in close to his mouth. Roy can’t help but lick his lips, making a liar out of Ed. Good men don’t lust after their subordinates.

“Don’t think I haven’t seen you when you think no one is watching, being kind to children on the streets, buying meals and drinks for people who need them. You’re a kind man, in a world that has made you hard. Trust me, I know,” Ed says, kissing him softly. “You’re so sharp that it makes me angry, sometimes, how much you see. I know books, but you know _people_ , like you can see straight into their hearts and minds, god, Roy, you’re so goddamned clever.”

“You make me feel safe. Even when you were just a military bastard capitalising on the Fullmetal Alchemist to achieve your own goals, you never put me or Al in harm’s way, deliberately. You think I don’t know all the missions you passed us over for, all the situations you thought were too risky? You had my back even when I was doing my best to be a pain in yours, and you never asked for anything from either of us. No one else had ever been so kind, apart from family. I spent so many afternoons sleeping in your office because I couldn’t sleep when Al wasn’t there. I knew you wouldn’t let me get hurt.”

“I trust you,” Ed says, and it’s too much, Roy can’t take it, he closes his eyes and turns away. He wants to believe this, but he can’t. “No, listen to me Roy,” Ed says, turning Roy’s face back towards him and demanding his attention. “I trust you and I don’t want anyone other than you. I don’t care how old you are, or about any of that other shit,” he declares, and then kisses Roy again, like it’s the end of the conversation.

“I won’t turn my back on you, you know. Even if you don’t want this,” Roy offers, once again. He has to make at least a good faith attempt to dissuade Ed. He knows better, even if Ed doesn’t.

Ed bites his nose, only a little bit more gently than he’d bit Roy’s neck. “You’re a dumbass, and every time you say shit like that, I’m going to bite you.”

Roy is only a man. He only has so much control. “You’re not exactly dissuading me, my dear.”

For some reason, out of everything else, _this_ is what makes Ed blush. “M’sorry,” he mumbles, hiding his face again.

Roy wraps his arms around Ed’s waist and squeezes. “What are _you_ sorry for?”

“I’m sure your girlfriends don’t normally bite you till you bruise.”

“You,” Roy starts, bracing himself to tell a truth he never thought he’d articulate, “make my knees weak. You make me breathless and dizzy and absolutely _stupid_ from how much I want you. Can you even feel what you’re doing to my heartrate, just lying here like this? I _adore_ you, Edward Elric, and I _adore_ how you like to bite me, and I’d like you to do it as frequently as you like. Though, if you don’t want to be patted on the back by the team til the day you die, do try to keep it below the collar.”

It’s clear that Ed believes Roy, from the way the tension in his spine eases and he turns into a boneless lump on top of Roy. Roy thinks he could die happy, like this.

“Guess we owe Hawkeye a bunch of flowers, eh?” Ed asks, moments later. He punctuates his sentence with a kiss on Roy’s shoulder, delightfully close to the place where he’d bitten him, sending shivers down Roy's spine.

“I think she’s just going to add it to the long list of things I owe her. Right after several barrels of good wine, and a pharmacy’s worth of pain-killer. Don't underestimate her, Ed. I'm going to owe her for the rest of my life."

“Worth it, though,” Ed says, and Roy has to agree. Who’d have thought telling the truth could work out so well?


End file.
